In the heart of the Realm
by McToast
Summary: Yami Marik's got an experiment in motion. It involves the Shadow Realm... And Ryou Bakura. Yaoi, NonCon.
1. Chapter 1

Ryou walked home in the drizzle, shopping bags in hand, brain working flat out. To the casual observer, he was walking in a daze – eyes glazed and walking on autopilot as his mind hammered out an assignment, assembling a plan of attack for the project.

It was Ryou's first year of University, and so far so good. Hadn't failed anything yet. He was a month shy of his nineteenth birthday – Joey was determined to get him hammered for once in his life.

He couldn't help but smile at that. Despite going on to different Universities, different jobs, different paths (and in Tea's case a different country altogether) they'd all managed to stay in contact and just as close as ever. Meeting up on the days they were all off and in town. Moral support. They all had their scars.

Ryou's hurt when it was cold.

The tree next to him shivered and he was jolted from his musings. A moving tree? But there was no breeze.

The tree meowed.

Ryou smiled. That explained that, then.

He walked up the steps to his scrap of a house and put down the shopping, fumbling for his keys. Since… then, he had a nervous streak that wouldn't go away. Actually, no, it wasn't really a nervous streak, just him being terribly, terribly alert to everything. Especially himself. Waking up in the morning with a dead arm was a surge of panic. Anything he couldn't really explain set him on edge. He'd had a public shivering fit on-campus when he couldn't remember what he'd had for breakfast that morning.

Most people put his worries down to him being high-strung, but Yugi and co. knew the truth, which was nice.

It was emotional baggage that had eventually forced him out of the flat he'd spent his Domino High Years in. Now he was in this strange, strange house-thing – it reminded him of terrace houses from his homeland only even smaller, with a tiny kitchen/living/dining combo with a little hall/staircase thing on the bottom floor, and his bedroom on top of it. One person only, teeny weeny little box thing and there were cracks in the ancient walls and brickwork, but he didn't care. It was cosy and warm, free of horrible memories and fast filling up with much better ones.

Made up for the blasted sticky door, he thought, wrestling with the wretched thing…

Eventually he shoved it open, tumbling into the hall. A box of tissues from his shopping clipped his head, nicking open his temple.

He sighed. 'Bugger.'

Oh well, he thought, picking himself up and starting to collect his spilled shopping. It was a tiny scratch and nothing broke. Had nothing broken? No, no glass anywhere or food spilled all over the floor, but there were packages and boxes spilling from bags…

Ryou looked up towards the kitchenette at some point, just by chance. Not deliberately looking around or anything, just where his head was at that moment.

It took him a little moment to realise what was out of place. There was a man in his kitchen. He was standing impossibly still, like a wax figure. Not even a ripple went through the great swathe of purple cape he had draped around himself. Gold hair standing up like he'd been electrified. There were veins standing up on his face like he was unstoppably, uncomprehendingly furious, yet his eyes were hooded like he was half-asleep. Mouth slack.

A stolen, static-filled, second-hand memory coughed up a name for the other man – Marik.

Ryou didn't move, shopping forgotten, staring.

Time slowed. The moment stretched on forever, as infinite and fragile as a soap bubble, with Ryou staring and Marik just existing.

Marik's head suddenly swung, eyes boring sidelong into Ryou's fragile face.

He smiled.

Ryou's lizard brain took control and he ran like a deer from a wolf, blind instinct sending him bolting for the staircase. Marik leapt over the counter, thundering after Ryou and tackling him to the floor at the foot of the stairs.

Ryou cried out, air slammed from his lungs and ribs cracking. Marik was easily twice his size, effortlessly pinning the scrawny boy to the floor. Ryou fought madly, but couldn't budge him. Marik slammed a knee into his stomach and he was nearly sick, seizing up in pain.

Marik put an arm across Ryou's neck and leant his full weight on him, making the smaller boy choke while he rummaged in his trouser pocket for something. Ryou's head was spinning, in too much pain for him to be properly afraid. He couldn't breathe. Marik was crushing him and there was bugger all he could do about it, he could feel himself starting to slip away…

He opened his eyes and saw Marik with a little green bottle in hand, grinning again, and the world came rushing back.

Marik had splashed a few drops of foul-tasting concoction into his mouth before Ryou wrenched an arm free, digging his fingers into Marik's eyes.

The Egyptian roared in pain, rearing backwards with hands flying to his face as the bottle bounced off the floorboards near Ryou's head. The smaller boy scrambled away from him, flying up the stairs.

Ryou slammed the door to his bedroom shut, locking it with trembling hands, heart pounding. His mouth tasted like putrid ditch water, and with another bolt of terror he realised that the taste went down his throat – whatever it was, he'd swallowed some of it.

Marik. Marik? He vaguely remembered a boy from battle city with huge purple eyes, shaggy blonde hair… He had almost no memory of that time – the ring had been in control of him.

He was starting to shake now. _I'm going into shock_, he thought. _If I want to get out of here, I'm going to have to keep moving._

He stumbled to his feet – why the _hell_ had he run upstairs?! Marik was downstairs – no he wasn't, he was thumping up the staircase. _The window._ There was a drainpipe running up the side of the house, Ryou could get down to the street and go find help.

He made it two steps before his legs gave way.

The world swung sideways, his head smacking on the corner of his desk on the way down. He forced himself to his feet, head spinning harder than a drunken ballerina, and collapsed again before he could get off his elbows and knees. He couldn't think properly, but the revelation hit him like a thunderbolt – he'd been poisoned.

The resulting surge of adrenalin was enough for him to wrench himself to his feet and hurl himself at the window, but it burnt up faster than kerosene soaked tissue paper. He skinned his knuckles on the windowsill and hit the ground hard, black watercolour seeping in the edges of his vision.

It was hard to breathe now; whatever he'd swallowed was constricting the muscles in his throat and chest. All sound was muffled, like his head was wrapped in a pillow. He was slipping away, he could feel it, but he'd be dammed if he was going without a fight.

He forced himself up again for a third time, getting to his knees. With another cautious step, he got on one foot, surge of hope going through him.

It wasn't until he got up on his other foot, completely upright, almost deaf, nearly blind and seconds from completely slipping away, that the part of his brain still functioning realised that there were hands under his arms and someone behind him was propping him up.

His knees gave way, the smaller boy falling backwards into Marik's arms. The Egyptian caught and lowered him so gently, as if he was cradling a lover. Ryou was barely awake now, breaths shallow and hitching in his throat, too out of it to be really afraid. Clinging onto the waking world with his fingertips.

Marik sank back on his haunches, drawing the skinny boy gently back into the folds of his cloak. He listened to his ragged little breaths, watching his eyes flicker and glaze. Marik found himself brushing hair off Ryou's face, one hand inside his shirt on his narrow, cold chest.

Ryou's eyes slid shut, breathing slowing to nothing as he lost the fight against the sedative.


	2. Chapter 2

On the outskirts of Domino City, in the older, more ragged part of the industrial district, there was a warehouse.

It was old and run-down, with grass growing waist-high in the yard. The concrete foundations were crumbling, parts of the sheet-metal walls rusting away or missing entirely. Nobody came here – ragged scraps of yellow-and-black striped "CAUTION" tape fluttered from posts and doors.

The warehouse had a long string of previous owners – all very brief ownerships. It "had a bad feel". Might have had something to do with the four girls buried under the concrete.

Marik had moved in not too long ago and made the place even better.

Outside there were a few scattered patches of bleached bone and fabric shreds, nearly buried by the grass – Marik's old playmates. He gave nary a thought to them as he waded through the grass to the warehouse.

Inside in the inky gloom you could just make out little rotting heaps on the ground, staining the concrete dark colours. Marik's failed experiments. The oldest had been on the concrete for about eighteen months, partly mummified in the still conditions, partly-rotted jaw hanging open in a silent scream. The youngest was just under a week – a boy, with blonde hair and fair skin, and little trails of ants leading from his milky eyes.

Boys and girls. None older than twenty. Marik's tastes were wide and varied.

He walked past these past ventures, footsteps echoing on the concrete no matter how softly he stepped. Not that there was a need to be quiet – only the dead and a very much blacked out Ryou were in earshot – but Marik found himself doing it anyway. Some weak, long-forgotten second-hand instinct told him to do it. Maybe because part of him thought Ryou would wake up.

Not so much as a peep from the boy since they'd left his bedroom. Not even when Marik had accidentally elbowed him in the nads getting him onto his shoulder. He could practically hear that black concoction oozing through Ryou's veins.

Marik had no idea what that little bottle contained. Or what it was supposed to do. He'd just found it in his pocket one day, and had an overwhelming desire to feed it to his next experiment.

The realm was good to him like that. Little presents every now and again.

The warehouse was only fifty meters long, but Marik had walked at least half a kilometre into the inky blackness. It was a good sign, too – most people he brought in here started to warp at about two hundred metres, but Ryou was still in once piece.

He looked down at the boy again. It was difficult to carry him without spreading his hair everywhere and getting his hands knotted in it, so Marik had wrapped it around his face like a veil. He could just make out Ryou's face beneath it, hair caught in his long eyelashes.

He was a joy to look at. So pretty. In another time slavers would have razed his hometown just to have him, and sold him for a king's ransom to the Emperor of a distant land. The brilliant jewel, the pride of a Sultan's harem.

In his mind's eye Marik saw Ryou dancing slowly, clad in shimmering, fluttering silks and little else. Maybe with a little gold collar around his neck. Something that would be easy to tear off his pale, writhing body at a moment's notice.

Marik's face split into a perverse rictus of a grin. This was going to be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

Ryou rolled over in his sheets, waking up slowly.

He cracked an eye and sighed – it was still dark out. This happened, sometimes – him waking up in the middle of the night. Nightmares, usually. He seemed to have an irreversibly damaged sleep cycle.

Whatever, thought Ryou. He rolled back over, throwing back a non-existent sheet and swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. Go to the bathroom, get a drink, back to bed. That usually helped.

Ryou sleepily realised his feet weren't touching the floor, dangled his toes a little longer and then suddenly snapped awake.

It was dark out because there was _nothing _out. The bed he was sitting on wasn't his own – he didn't own liquid silk sheets. Despite long, skinny legs he couldn't touch anything under the bed. And on top of all this he appeared to be buck naked.

Ryou leapt back away from the edge, slipped on the frictionless sheets and fell back into the feather-soft mattress, getting hopelessly tangled.

He glanced around, panicked. Where the hell was he? The bed was a four-post, elaborate Victorian monstrosity, made out of some rich, dark wood and carved with impossibly fine patterns. It even had a canopy – a black velvet thing that made Ryou feel like he was trapped in the folds of someone's elegant waistcoat pocket. The luscious sheets didn't lessen the feeling – what the hell were they made out of? The finest silk was rougher than this. The stuff was like water woven into fabric. Ryou creased it in his fingertips, fascinated - he'd seen nothing like this before.

As he tugged on the sheet, it glided past his naked body and he remembered his situation.

Ryou wrapped the sheet tighter around himself, standing up to get a better view of his surroundings. There were none. The place wasn't dark, it was just… void. The bed he was on was well-lit, but he could see no light. Beyond the bed there was nothing. Nothing at all. Like he was suspended in space. It hurt his eyes to look for very long, there was just _nothing._

He crept to the edge and dangled a leg over it again, as far as he could go without falling off. Nothing. He could touch the bed, and when he moved to the corner he could touch the legs, but they weren't sitting on anything. He could slide his feet under them, touch their undersides.

The bed was hanging in space. Ryou shuffled back to the dead centre, deciding that was probably the best spot to be in under the circumstances.

The memory of the break-in and kidnapping came flooding back to him. Ryou suddenly went cold. Had that really happened? It seemed like a bad dream – it'd been so fast…

Ryou felt his eyes prickling. This was getting to be too much.

So he stood up and slapped himself. "Get a grip, Ryou. You've been in worse."

_With a Pharaoh and safety-net of friends to bail you out_, whispered a tiny voice in his mind.

Ryou ignored it. He went to the edge of the bed again, looking down over the edge. Just because he couldn't _see _a bottom didn't mean there wasn't one. Same went for supports.

He peered around the corner of the massive bedhead, seeing if there was a big support or something hiding back there. Nothing. He stripped the sheet off the bed and whipped it around back there, hoping it would catch on something invisible and reveal how this thing was staying up. No such luck.

Ryou repeated the trick down the sides and under the bed. Nothing. He even flicked the sheet above the canopy – maybe the bed was hanging from something. It wasn't.

He grabbed a pillow and flung it as hard as he could at where the ground should be, and strained his ears for even the slightest sound of it hitting something. Nothing. Then he flung the other as far as he could out into space. Again, nothing. Because of their dark colour he lost sight of them seconds after he'd thrown them – like they simply dissolved.

When Ryou turned back around, the pillows were back on the bed. Exactly where they'd been.

He was suddenly uncomfortably aware of being naked, sat down quickly and pulled the sheet around him again.

Ryou let out a shaky breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Okay. Now what?

Jump off?

He had the sneaking suspicion he was in the Shadow Realm. He'd never actually seen it first hand, but there were hazy, static-filled bits and pieces of memory featuring the something he assumed was the Shadow Realm. There were _a lot _of bits-and-pieces memories featuring that, actually. Somewhere black and inky and sometimes slightly purple. Matched up very well with wherever the hell he was now.

Could he jump off the edge of the bed? Would he fall forever, or hit something eventually?

Ryou looked around, partly moving for the sake of moving and partly hoping to find some inspiration by staring into a different bit of featureless void, and purely by chance managed to look Yami Marik right in the face

'You're pretty when you're supressing panic,' said Marik.

Ryou leapt backwards, smacking his head on the headboard. He scrambled to the farthest corner of the bed, as far from Marik as possible.

Marik, who had his elbows on the mattress and face cupped in his hands, batted his eyelashes. Ryou stared, unable to form a coherent thought.

Marik slouched onto the bed, rolling his eyes. 'Just trying to be friendly, jeez…'

Ryou flinched backwards. Marik's eyes snapped to him 'Pro tip; don't fall off the bed. Last guy who did that… I found _some_ bits of him. Later.'

'Where the hell am I?' blurted Ryou.

'Shadow Realm,' said Marik. 'You know. In fact, I'm _sure _you know; I distinctly remember having met before. Ryou, wasn't it? Waaaay before, like before I was here. Weren't you here at some point?'

Ryou answered unthinkingly, far too used to having to correct Yugi's fond reminiscences. 'I think you and the Spirit of the Millennium Ring-'

Marik clapped his hands. 'Oh, of course! Him! I remember now. I get confused sometimes, sorry.' He waggled his fingers at his head. 'Bit of an overload.'

Ryou just stared. Marik took the opportunity to get comfy on his corner of the bed – and it was right then that Ryou realised Marik was wearing his cargo pants and nothing else. Bare chested and ripped enough to make underwear models jealous. Holy shit. You could crush cans between those pecs.

Marik got settled. 'Yeah. So I'm sorry if I'm a bit different to how you remember. Being here does that.'

'Were't… were't you all…'

Marik grinned, eyes suddenly flaring and veins standing up on his face. '**Like this?**'

Ryou nearly fell off the bed.

Marik relaxed, going back to being laid-back, but the veins still stood up on his face. 'Yeah. I've sort of…' he rubbed his face, looking for the right word. The twitching veins on his face gave the impression that he was actually deadly furious and only sarcastically calm. 'I've… settled? Assimilated? Yeah. Assimilated some people who were a bit more laid back, which is quite nice; makes thinking easier, now I'm not angry and yelling all the time…'

'Why?' squeaked Ryou.

'What?'

'What are you going… why am I here?'

Marik looked worriedly at Ryou's position on the bed. 'You wanna come back from the edge a little? I mean…'

Ryou looked down, and nervously shuffled back from the edge, holding onto the sheet to hide himself, still sticking to the headboard. But when he leant back on the seemingly solid slab of wood, it creaked ominously under his weight. Ryou jumped back into about the middle of the bed, with a nervous half-laugh.

Marik snickered. It sounded disturbingly hyena-like. 'What am I going to do to you, Ryou?'

'That's not what I asked but close enough…'

Marik suddenly slinked forward, prowling towards him on hands and knees. 'What I'd _like _to do to you, Ryou, what I'd like to do is force you down onto all fours and get inside you. I'd like to have you. I'd like to _fuck_ you, Ryou, fuck you until you bled.'

Ryou scrambled back, blood draining from his face. Marik kept coming, looking hungry. 'I'd bet my eyeteeth that you'd be tight as a harp string, Ryou. A tight little virgin. And I can guarantee it would hurt, and you'd scream beautifully at first; I'm a hell of a lot bigger than you. But you'd get over it eventually, that I'm sure of. You'd _like_ it. The pain and the pleasure.' Ryou tried to scoot back to the headboard but Marik grabbed a skinny ankle and yanked him close. 'Never mind the blood – you'd cum so hard for me you'd black out, and wake up begging for more.'

Ryou didn't care he was starkers anymore – he struggled for all his worth to get away but Marik was on top of him now, hands on his shoulder, pinning him to the bed. Ryou couldn't move.

Marik scowled to himself. 'But what I _have_ to do is much less fun.' His hand wandered down Ryou's chest. 'Well, much less fun for me, anyway…'

Ryou kicked Marik in the crotch.

Marik frowned at him. Hard. 'No, I don't think so.'

Suddenly he flipped Ryou onto his front, one hand pinning Ryou's arms behind his back and the other hoisting his backside into the air. Marik pinned his skinny legs using his knees, leaving Ryou trapped in that compromising position.

Marik ground into Ryou's ass, letting the boy feel how massive and rock hard he was. 'Try that again and I'll just rape you, 'kay? Actually…' He grounded against the boy again, slowly, thoughtfully. Ryou's breath hitched hard. Marik grinned. 'You try anything I don't like and I'll make you bleed. Deal?'

Ryou sobbed. Marik took it as a yes and flipped him onto his front, and saw the tears in his eyes.

'No no no no no,' whispered Marik, gently kissing them away. 'Just stay still, and I promise you'll enjoy this.' Between kisses, 'You'll, never, have, anything, like, this…'

He continued trailing kisses down Ryou's neck, feeling the boy tremble in fear. _Well, _thought Marik, _We'll have to do something about that._

His hands wandered down Ryou's body while he trailed kisses down his neck, stopping to nibble on the boy's collarbone, fingers rubbing his nipples. Ryou shut up, still shivering, no real change.

Marik growled and changed tactic, and with a sharp lick down his chest took a tender bud between his teeth and worked over it with a quick, expert tongue, licking and sucking and teasing.

Ryou took a sharp breath, shuddering. Marik smiled – _progress..._

He skimmed a hand over Ryou's milky-white, hairless abdomen and found his inner thigh, stroking the soft, tender flesh. Ryou was still shivering, but didn't make a sound. Marik realised he was literally biting his tongue, refusing to make a noise. Marik brushed fingertips up his taint. Nothing. _Right, that's how you want to play._

Marik pounced on him, getting an iron grip on Ryou's half-formed erection and pumping him mercilessly. The boy cried out, squirming to get away but Marik straddled his legs, other hand on his chest, trapping him against the bed. In Marik's expert hands Ryou grew stiff and hard, tears in his eyes as his body betrayed him.

He didn't want this. He was a virgin – he'd never been terribly good with the ladies and the lack of action had never really bothered him, but he'd wanted his first time to be something special with someone special. Not like this. It was rough, and hurt, but… i-it felt nice…

Marik worked him with long, even strokes, coaxing Ryou's virgin form to being as hard as possible, cursing the tightness in his own pants. It was taking every ounce of self-control not to flip him over, drop his pants and fuck him stupid – Ryou could at least give him a moan or something. Cries of pain were nice, and it wasn't like he needed noises to complete the ritual, but they were always nice.

He dropped down, and without warning took Ryou's hard cock in his mouth and gave him a ferocious suck.

Ryou couldn't take it anymore and a cry escaped him. This was too much – he gave a lusty moan, feeling himself buck his hips into Marik's greedy mouth. Panting, he tried to think; Marik was… was making his body do things… things he didn't want… didn't he? His nethers were so hot and tight, watch springs coiling in his belly…

Ryou sang with wonderful noises. Marik smiled around the boy's cock, rewarding him with another hard lick and powerful suck. He had to hold Ryou's thrusting hips down with both hands now, stopping him from bucking into his mouth. _Good boy. Enjoy yourself for uncle Marik. _He could taste Ryou's precum in his mouth – sweet like vanilla and morning dew. Just as delicious and palatable as the rest of him.

He was so close to cumming now, so close. Just a smidgen more…

Marik broke away suddenly, sitting up. Ryou cried out at the loss of contact, thrusting shamelessly in the air, demanding more.

Marik laughed, reaching into his pockets. 'I know, I know, later. Right now, you have to be a good boy-' He gave Ryou's quivering member one last teasing stroke. '-and not cum through your cock ring…'

With a flash, before Ryou could register what was going on, Marik had snapped a tight black ring around his throbbing erection. Ryou looked on in disbelief as Marik gave the head of his manhood one gentle suck, cleaning what precum remained, and confirming that nothing could get through. The sensation was maddening – so close to orgasm and prevented from doing so! Marik grabbed Ryou's hands before he could even think about freeing himself, lashing them behind his back with a cord as Ryou screamed and squirmed and writhed, pressure building to intolerable levels.

Marik grinned, wickedly and wolfishly. This was one of his favourite parts – the frustration. He admired Ryou's pained face, his glistening, pale, writhing form, his reddening cock. Then Marik deftly flipped him onto his front.

Ryou shamelessly humped the mattress, desperately trying to relieve himself but it was no use. The ring was simply too tight, completely cutting him off. He couldn't think straight – he was too turned on, in too much pain, too aroused…

He was vaguely aware of Marik painting something cold and slimy onto his back, calling loudly in a language he didn't recognise. Ryou wriggled in the bed, and around him the shadow realm boiled and roared. Whatever was on his back dried instantly, prickling and tight.

Then Marik flipped him back over, Ryou keening and whining with tears in his eyes, struggling feebly against his bonds. Marik sat back, smiling to himself and admiring Ryou – that lustrous white skin gleaming with sweat, thin muscles standing out like knotted ropes as he squirmed, that beautiful face twisted in agony and ecstasy and frustration. He forced his slim legs apart, revealing the source of Ryou's troubles – his grossly swollen member, purpling and rock hard, puckered around the cruel ring. He tried to close his legs, perhaps a futile attempt to rub himself into relief, but Marik wouldn't let him – forcing the boy to lie open and at his mercy.

Marik took Ryou's cock in his mouth, giving it some lubrication. It was too much – Ryou screamed at his touch. Delicately using his teeth, Marik worked the tight-fitting ring off him.

Ryou nearly came on the spot. Marik grabbed him in an iron grip around the base of his shaft, flinging the ring off into the black. Then, without warning, he let go and deep-throated the struggling boy.

Ryou came hard and scorching hot, so hard his ears rang, the boy crying out in one long, perfect note. Marik sucked greedily, swallowing down every last drop.

Ryou flopped back into the bed, deafened, spots dancing in his eyes and only half-conscious. Moving was impossible. Thinking was much the same. Down his body, Marik was carefully licking him clean. The touch of his tongue hurt, but Ryou wasn't in any shape to register it.

The next thing he was aware of was Marik gently hoisting him up, pausing for a second to examine his painted back, and then settling back down in amongst pillows, carefully arranging Ryou so he was curled up against Marik's broad chest. He had a gentle but firm grip on Ryou's tender, battered member – like a child unwilling to let go of his new toy_._

'Well,' said Marik, looking more than faintly pleased with himself. 'Step one went pretty well, I think.'

Ryou, still caught up in his own afterglow, said nothing.

Marik slowly ran a hand down Ryou's damp body, feeling his narrow chest heave, heart fluttering like a bird. 'I'm lonely, Ryou,' said Marik softly. 'I don't know why I've survived in this place, but I have, sort of. The realm uses me a lot because of it. Someone falls in or gets banished every now and again, and the realm breaks them down into their pieces, standard procedure. But if it finds a piece it likes, it'll find wherever the hell I'm lurking and pin me down, take _me _to pieces, and when I'm finally back together I've got a piece that wasn't there before. I know how to skin a man with a buck knife. I think rationally. Logically, even. I think I have a little bit of SAS training. I have a sunny disposition-' he scowled. 'That one went away pretty fast, thank Ra.'

He smiled, idly stroking the soft flesh of Ryou's inner thigh. 'So I've been doing my own experiments, see. Trying to figure out how to have someone in here without the realm taking them to bits. Fair bit of trial and error involved but I think I've got it nailed now. I hope I have – I'd hate to lose you. What we did just there was the first step. You're pretty out of it right now so I'm not going to bother with the explaining. It's pretty long and technical. Boring shit.'

Ryou was still too dazed to respond much. Marik's sneaky hand crept up Ryou's body, tracing his taint and finding his anus, lazily tracing a finger around the tight, untouched ring of muscle. 'But it's about time, I think,' smirked Marik. 'For step two.'

The bed collapsed.

The only thing that stopped Marik from plunging headfirst into the abyss was a superhuman reflex that made him clamp onto the headboard as the mattress ripped and yawned beneath him. Ryou wasn't so lucky – his first properly conscious thought was _I appear to be falling to my death._

Marik watched as Ryou dropped tumbling into the black, a hail of splintered wood and ripped fabric and feathers spiralling down after him. Both looked just as horrified as each other.

Marik let go of the headboard, dropping after Ryou, intending to catch up with him and wind up wherever the hell he was going. He'd made too much progress, and Ryou was too damn pretty for Marik to lose him to the whims of the shadow realm. He was not having this.

Ten meters down, Marik bodily slammed into a floor.

He leapt to his feet, roaring an expletive in a long dead language. Beneath him, he could see a tiny speck of white wink out of existence.

Marik slammed his fists on the glass floor until his knuckles bled, but it wouldn't give. If he was going to find Ryou again, he was going to have to find another way through the realm.

Ryou hit the water with concussive, bone-breaking force.

He'd fallen for what felt like hours, too terrified to think. Lizard brain taking over again. now he was in the water, he still couldn't think – his ribs and one shoulder were in flaming agony, probably broken, and his head was ringing like a church bell. He couldn't see, although whether it was because he was blinded or in pitch black he couldn't tell.

Distantly, around him, he could hear shattered bits of bed splashing into the water. Water? How could he be underwater? He could still breathe.

He turned his head, confused, and felt a familiar substantial tug on his long hair. Yep – water. Also, he was breathing air. Also, he could feel waves through the water from debris impact. Also, he wasn't drowning.

Ryou's brain was too tired and processing too much pain to think about it too hard. And he had something a bit bigger to focus on anyway – something had a casual hold of his ankle.

He gave a swift kick and immediately regretted it as his side flared up into boiling hot agony. He cried out – sounded like he was underwater too.

The thing around his ankle had been loose, strap-like and slimy – kelp, or another seaweed. Ryou felt another tongue of it run up his back – he must be sinking into the stuff. He was too tired to swim away, and what was the point of it? He couldn't drown, he reasoned.

Ryou could feel himself slipping into unconsciousness, lulled by the lukewarm water and gentle drifting sensation, kelp trailing over his broken ribs and bleeding head like gentle hands. Rather thickly trailing, too. Almost as if it was trying to get a hold on him.

Tendrils of the stuff encircled his legs, twining around his body. One even wrapped around his face – Ryou was dead to the world now, too exhausted to stay awake. The kelp wrapped tighter around him, manoeuvring him, crossing his arms over his shoulders, closing his legs and drawing his knees up to his chest.

The kelp pulled him deeper into the gloom, ever closer to the heart of the realm.


	4. Chapter 4

Ever felt proud and a teensy bit disgusted all at the same time?

Ryou woke up on a beach.

His legs were in the water, little waves lapping gently against his waist, his body sticky with dried salt. With much effort he prized his eyelids open, rubbing away salty gunk with the back of his hand. As he picked himself up his chest came away crusty with sand, his hair matted and dripping, full of grit and seaweed and god knows what else.

Cringing, he went back into the calm waters and washed himself. Combing his hands through his hair and swishing it through the water he managed to get most of the crap out…

He straightened up, shaking himself like a dog and whipping his hair about. That was the risk of wearing your long hair out all the time – getting it tangled with rubbish. Oh well. Wasn't too bad – wash and a comb with some conditioner and it should turn out all right.

Ryou realised that he was thinking like he knew where he was, he had a way to get home and would be going home at a specific, known point in the future.

He sat down in the surf, suddenly overwhelmed. His most recent memories flooded back to him, and he cringed with disgust. Marik had… had done things to him against his will, and he'd _liked_ it. He'd thoroughly enjoyed it. He hated himself for it. Ryou had never felt anything like it – he hadn't even had a wank before, for crying out loud.

He stood up, pushing thoughts from his mind and wiping his face. Think about it later. Right now – where the hell was he, and how was he going to escape?

He appeared to be on a beach, a little narrow strip of sand in a sheltered cove thing - he'd been washed in with the tide. Maybe this was an island – the water seemed very calm, like a lagoon or a small straight, and he could see what might be mainland across the water. Behind him was a thick scrubby forest of sorts, so think that it might be impenetrable. He'd certainly get torn to pieces on those brambles if he tried. It was overcast with a low sky, and the whole word was a somewhat bleached grey with no shadows. No travel-brochure colours here. Aside from the waves, he could hear nothing. No wind, no trees, no birds. The place felt… unfinished. And creepy as hell, which seemed to be normal around here.

Ryou touched himself, gingerly. He felt like he should ache all over, but he didn't. He was fine. Well, save for his manhood, which was tender to the touch. And he was still buck naked – he'd kill for a pair of pants. Or to be somewhere that wasn't an open stretch of beach. Surely there had to be something around here somewhere? A bit of cover? A building? He felt ridiculously exposed out here.

He could just make out the headland, way up the other end of the beach. A great big huge towering mountain of rock with some twisted, stunted trees and a few scraggly tussocks of grass. Might be something there. The other option was to sit around in his birthday suit on this unsettling beach some more. He set out towards it.

As he walked towards the headland, Ryou was concentrating very hard on not thinking about where he was, or what had just happened. Right now, getting home was all that was on his mind. There had to be a way out of here. When the ring spirit has here he'd found a way out and took Ryou along with him; Ryou could do exactly the same thing. Remembering how the spirit had done it the first time around would be a huge help…

By his own count, it took Ryou almost half an hour to reach the headland. He didn't see a single bird, or a footprint, or any other signs of life. He found a bone or two, washed up on the beach. What he thought might have been a piece of human skull at one point, but he couldn't be sure. It was the only flotsam he could find, aside from the occasional long strap of slimy black kelp.

When he reached the headland he realised that it was unscaleable – the sides were smooth basalt, with the seams running up and down. There was no way up the thing. However, there was a suspiciously neat-looking cave entrance punched into the rock next to him. It almost looked man-made. Very suspicious.

It was just big enough to stand up in, and dark as the abyss. Ryou couldn't see much further than a foot inside – some sandy floor, rocky walls and then just inky black.

Aside from the cave, his other option was to try to go into the forest or head back up the beach and look around at the other end. Neither were terribly enticing – the other end of the beach was several miles away and the forest looked like it had escaped from the sketchbook of an especially morbid and gothic teenager. The brambles seemed even thicker here then where he'd been originally.

Just as he was deciding to walk back up the beach, it started pelting down. Big seaside-storm raindrops that felt like air-rifle shots on his bare skin. Ryou unthinkingly ran into the cave to get out of it.

After he was in the cave, leaning against the wall and rubbing his stinging skin, Ryou realised that storm had popped up suspiciously fast. And now it was blasting sand around, in a manner that would make it quite physically painful to go back outside again.

He swallowed. This place was herding him.

Ryou pinched the bridge of his nose, shivering. Okay. So if this place was herding him, this storm wasn't going to blow over any time soon because it was deliberately constructed, forcing him to stay in the cave. So he could hopefully wait for it to calm down a bit (which it wouldn't) or go into the cave a bit more. That was where he was supposed to be going, it seemed.

'Bloody hell,' muttered Ryou, hearing a shiver in his voice.

Okay, so what could possibly be deeper inside the cave? Aside from unspeakable horrors? Sand. Rocks of assorted sizes, probably. Marik.

Marik…

Okay, so he was probably going to run into Marik again, that was a given. Ryou cringed again. He should be brave about it and demand a way out, strike some sort of deal with him. Marik hadn't done… much. Ryou's downstairs ached but he wasn't bleeding or anything. And he didn't fancy wandering around the Shadow Realm in his birthday suit for all eternity.

Yeah, okay. He couldn't go back out there again; it was a blur of stinging rain and sand that could cut diamonds. Marik talked, last time, they could talk again. Sort something out.

Ryou stood, swallowed nervously, and wandered deeper into the cave.

Much to his dismay, the cave was tunnelled deep into the rock. He stuck close to one wall as he rounded a corner and lost the light from the entrance. The floor was dry, soft sand underfoot, the walls cold, rough basalt. The tunnel was perhaps a metre wide, by Ryou's guess. He was slowly groping along the walls, trying not to stub a toe or crack his head on anything.

The tunnel suddenly widened out into a huge chamber, with solid basalt as the floor and walls, the roof out of reach of Ryou's stretching hands. He whistled experimentally, hearing the wild echo. As he shuffled around the circumference, he estimated the thing to be about thirty-odd metres across, and god knows how high.

Ryou did a lap of the room, trying to guess its size and feeling for abnormalities, and realised with a cold sinking feeling that the tunnel entrance had disappeared. He took a deep breath. _Okay, don't panic. Stuff moves in here. Keep looking._

He did another lap of the room, very carefully investigating the walls and finding not even a crack. After that, he checked the floor. It was smooth and sand-less and sloped towards the centre of the room, like a dish. You could drop a marble on the edge of the room and it would roll to the dead middle. And there were no convenient trapdoors.

Growing desperate, Ryou wandered around with his hands stretched in the air, trying to feel for a ceiling or something.

Someone stretched down from the ceiling and patted Ryou on the head.

Ryou squeaked and scuttled away to a corner, crouching in a corner and listening hard. Aside from his own shaky breathing, the room was silent. Not a sound.

Ryou swallowed. 'Marik, I know it's you. There's no-one else here.'

He held his breath for what seemed like an age. There was no sound. He _hoped _it was Marik making another scare-the-ever-loving-crap-out-of-Ryou entrance and not some other thing…

From the ceiling, Marik grumbled. 'You're no fun.'

Ryou tried not to exhale too loudly. Thank god. Better the devil you know and all that. 'And you're a tad predictable…' he murmured.

'Oh?' said Marik, inches from his face. 'Tell me about it.'

Ryou leapt out of his skin yet again, dashing sideways and around the room, away from Marik. There was no way in hell he was going let Marik anywhere near him, pitch dark be dammed. 'I mean, I'm not criticising; it's a nice dynamic entry, just silently rocking up like you're imitating Batman and scaring the pants off me…'

Marik snickered, a spinechilling hyena laugh about a meter away. 'That would be quite a feat in your current state.'

Ryou froze, reflexively covering himself in an awkward crouch. The rearranged himself into what he hoped was a somewhat intimidating defensive posture, hunching his shoulders and hunkering close to the floor. 'I want to strike a deal with you.'

Marik was sitting a few feet away from him. And perhaps smiling. 'A deal, eh? Do tell.'

'I want to leave, and I'm willing to negotiate terms with you.'

Marik didn't make a sound. Ryou wished he could see properly – the way he was moving it looked like Marik had perfect vision down here. Would be nice to read his face right about now.

Marik snickered again. '_Terms?_ Okay, terms…' There was that hyena laugh. 'Do you remember what I said before about fucking you until you bled?'

Ryou felt himself go cold, and supressed the urge to move. 'Yes,' he said evenly.

'Weee-eeellllll…' said Marik.

Ryou stood, balling his fists and trying to look dangerous. 'No.'

From the floor; 'Damn you look cute like that. It's like watching a Labrador puppy get cross.'

Ryou held his position, balling his fists a little harder and trying not to do anything remotely similar to a pout.

'Also,' said Marik, still on the floor. 'I honestly don't care whether you give your consent or not, we're having sex. There's a thing on your back that says we are. I mean, consensual would be better – neither of us has to injure each other and it's going to be easier to get you into a compromising position… but honestly, I don't care.' Ryou heard him get to his feet. 'Once a sadomasochist, always a sadomasochist, I suppose. To be truthful, if I had consensual sex on demand I'd probably be bored stupid within hours. Shadow Realm never did anything to that part of me.'

Newfound spine completely forgotten, Ryou backed away. He felt cold and exposed, back especially so. 'What did you say about my back?'

Ryou swore he could hear Marik frowning. 'You haven't noticed?'

The skin on Ryou's narrow, bony back felt a little tight and itchy, but he'd put it down to drying saltwater. 'Noticed what?'

'The thing I put on your back. I did put it there, didn't I? You should have felt it by now…'

Suddenly there was a rough hand on his shoulder, spinning him around to face the wall, one warm hand on the flat of his belly. 'No, it's there,' murmured Marik. 'I thought I remembered putting it on you; that was about the time you started howling.'

Ryou spun on his heel, twisting out of Marik's inquiring hands and leaping away from him. His back did feel tight - something was stretching and pinching his skin, warping it. 'What did you do to me?' he called.

'Aside from confirm you're loud in bed?'

Ryou went rosy red.

Marik laughed. 'Long story short – if we leave it on you much longer it's going to contract to the point where it'll tear open your skin. Broad brush strokes contract to pen lines, stretch your skin, you get the idea. It's the nature of the stuff.'

Ryou knew it was all in his head but the skin on his back felt unbearably tight now. And the rest of him was cold. 'What?'

'Give it a few hours and you'll have a secret back thing.' Suddenly a side of rippling muscle brushed against his chest, deep scar tissue scraping against his soft skin. 'See? I have a secret back thing too.'

Ryou leapt away again and crashed into the stone wall, cracking his head on jagged basalt. Marik was there instantly - Ryou fell backwards into his arms, stunned.

'So these are my terms,' murmured Marik. 'There's no escape from this room. There's no escape from this place. Not without me, I mean, and I've no real intention of letting you go. In the event that you do escape me or we get separated, you've got a time bomb on your back and I'm really the only one who can fix that. So I do believe whatever terms and conditions you were wishing for are moot. Now,' he took one hand away and snapped his fingers. Ryou swore he could hear him grinning. 'On with the show.'

Ryou elbowed him as hard as he could, and by pure chance hit something soft. Marik yelled, and Ryou darted away to the other side of the room, this time being careful not to smack into anything. His head was spinning, but this wasn't the time to lose his wits.

'Well,' growled Marik. 'If that's how you want to play, why didn't you say so before?'

He slammed Ryou against the wall, hammering the breath out of him, catching his mouth in a ferocious kiss. Ryou nearly choked as Marik's tongue mapped out every last inch of his mouth. Back cold from the basalt behind him and chest warm from Marik's naked body pressed against him, Ryou struggled for all he was worth.

Marik broke off the kiss, leaving Ryou gasping and coughing. In between words, he trailed little butterfly kisses down Ryou's neck. 'If I were you, I'd stop struggling because you're only going to do yourself an injury…'

He slipped a deft, sneaky hand between Ryou's pale thighs, gently stroking him, teasing him. 'I will be as gentle as possible… make this painless as I can…'

Ryou coughed, squirming in his grip, already starting to harden. Marik grinned – that was what he liked about virgins; no self-control. Ryou couldn't help himself – his body was craving these strange new sensations.

And Ryou hated himself for it. His legs were tangled in Marik's, stuck open. Marik knew what he was doing, rubbing his thumb along the underside of Ryou's cock, tracing the pulsating vein. It was all Ryou could do to wrap his arms around Marik's neck, shivering like a leaf and weak at the knees but determined not to fall against him. His eyes stung. He tried to tell himself that there was nothing he could do to stop Marik and he should just go through with it, but deep down, a part of him was enjoying this far too much. He'd wanted this to happen again.

Ryou was making little breathy moans nearly in Marik's ear. Sweet music. Marik took it as his cue and with his other hand reached out into the dark, swiping his fingers through the inky blackness and bringing his hand back slick with a cold, oily substance. Leaving Ryou's manhood he stroked his hand down the slender boy's taint, feeling, hunting, finding his prize.

The slender boy squirmed at the sudden intrusion, crying out. Marik nearly cried out himself – Ryou was warm and engulfing, tight as a harpstring. Even Marik's single finger caused the boy pain. He moved in and out, still stroking Ryou's member, generously lubricating his virgin entrance. He'd need it. Marik reached out again, the realm obediently slicking his fingers, and went back to preparing Ryou, still only using one finger to lubricate around and inside that tight ring of muscle. He cautiously added a second one, scissoring him.

Ryou yelled at the sensation, squirming hard against Marik. The friction took the Egyptian by surprise and Marik slammed him up against the wall again, fingers still deep inside him, growling and shivering.

'Stop moving or I'll make you bleed,' hissed Marik. 'And stop hollering. You're enough of a tease as it is…'

Marik started working him again, gently, methodically stretching him. Ryou shuddered with every movement, tiny whimpers escaping through his bit tongue. It was taking every ounce of Marik's self-control to not to flip him over and fuck him now, he was rock-hard. He spread more lube inside of him, feeling how rapidly the cold viscous liquid warmed inside the boy's quivering body. Ryou would have to be practically dripping with the stuff to handle the next stage. His jerky little movements meant the inside of his thighs were already slick and glistening…

Ryou moaned involuntarily, and Marik suddenly felt precum in his hand. Without really trying, Marik had stroked him close to orgasm. Marik growled – he could barely think as it was. That moan was the last straw.

He hauled Ryou to the middle of the room, the slender boy too far gone to notice the circles of runes glowing from the rock floor. He laid Ryou on the basalt, just managing to stop himself from throwing him down in his urgency. One final swipe through the dark, thing time to coat his own impatient, throbbing member.

As his legs were opened in final preparations, Ryou growled in frustration, bucking his hips into the air. Once again he was too lost in the moment to think about his dignity, or why Marik had been sticking his fingers inside him, or anything much really. All he wanted was Marik's hands on his body, those skilful, joyous hands.

His cries died back to shaky breaths as Marik leaned forward so their chests were touching, lips and tongue trailing across Ryou's neck, tasting him, savouring him. He lifted Ryou's legs up, clamping them in a cast-iron grip and manoeuvring his thin body so his backside was between Marik's legs.

Ryou suddenly felt something slippery, hard and hot pressed against his tender, stretched entrance, easing into him. He squawked, scrabbling backwards and kicking to free his legs, but Marik's grip was far too tight for that.

Something belted him across the face, hard enough to slap his head sideways and leaving a crimson line across his cheek. He felt cold, wet things trailing over his shoulders, under his arms – and then suddenly pull bone-crushingly tight. He jerked, reflexively, but couldn't move. His shoulders and uppermost body was securely anchored to the floor, tied down by black kelp.

Marik adjusted his grip on Ryou's legs, aligning the boy's slender hips with his twitching cock. Once again, Ryou felt the head of Marik's member pressing into his slickened entrance and this time he couldn't escape.

With a slow roll of his hips, Marik eased himself into Ryou.

No amount of stretching and lubrication could have prepared him – Ryou felt like he was being split in two by an iron wedge. He was being stretched to tearing point and Marik wasn't even half in. The pain was so overwhelming that he couldn't even hear himself scream.

Marik, on the other hand, was in a state of pure euphoria. Ryou's hot, quivering passage clamped down around him, squeezing and throbbing as his body tried to rid itself of Marik's violating manhood. The Egyptian threw back his head in ecstasy – it took every ounce of self-control not to grab Ryou by the hips and fuck him raw.

Marik slowly inched himself further into the boy, stopping frequently, giving Ryou time to adjust to his size. He stole the boy's mouth in a heated kiss, stemming the tide of sobs. One hand went back to Ryou's half-formed erection, giving him something else to think about.

Ryou cried into Marik's mouth, brain swamped with the pain of his flesh being rendered as Marik forced himself into him, fire leaping in his loins as Marik coaxed his erection back to its full length, choking on Marik's violent kisses. He couldn't think. Pain gave way to pleasure gave way to pain…

By pure chance and due to his sheer size, Marik ground into Ryou's prostate, sending electric waves of sensation through his body. Ryou moaned at the sudden pleasure, arching his back and pressing into Marik. Powerful magic was taking hold of him.

Marik withdrew carefully and slowly pushed back into Ryou's hot tight body, again grinding into that tight knot of nerves. Ryou gasped, electricity coursing through him. He was drowning in an intoxicating cocktail of pain and pleasure. He blindly groped for Marik's body, straining against his bonds, cock twitching, desperate to be closer to him.

Marik slung Ryou's legs over his shoulders and leant down, chests touching, bending Ryou's legs so his knees were up around his ears. Marik had forgotten about being careful and had a rhythm going now, pounding into Ryou's hot, hugging flesh, burying himself to the hilt with each powerful thrust, ripping away any last shred of innocence. Ryou's back was bent like a bow, legs trapped open under Marik's heavy, sweating body. He was torn inside, each thrust rending his flesh a little more, but he didn't care. Each movement sent a shock of pleasure through him, Marik grinding against his prostate and, with bodies pressed together, massaging Ryou's cock as well.

Marik lavished bites along Ryou's collarbones, growing more and more violent as he reached his climax. He hauled Ryou upright, black bonds snapping, clawing great welts in his black and sides as he crushed him into his lap. Ryou's arms were wrapped tight around his neck, legs clamped around his waist. The pair moaned and growled into kisses, runes on the floor burning like lava and the Shadow Realm boiling and roaring around them.

The pressure in Ryou's abdomen reached an unbearable level and he howled, cumming hot and hard against Marik's abdomen, torn muscle clamping down tight around Marik's cock and tipping him over the edge. The Egyptian sank his teeth into Ryou's shoulder, crushing him in his arms and with one final thrust buried himself to the hilt and came, pumping his semen into the helpless Ryou, filling his torn insides.

The runes on the floor faded, the roar of the realm dying away. Marik fell on his back, Ryou collapsing on top of him, both of them seeing stars.

The pair stayed that way for a long moment, their gasping breaths the only sound in the inky blackness. Under his hands, Marik felt the skin on Ryou's back return to normal.

The Egyptian moved slowly, shifting his lean captive so Ryou's head lay on his chest. He lifted Ryou's hips, gently separating them. Ryou bled freely, Marik's hands coming away sticky with blood and other fluids. Ryou was too lost in afterglow to even flinch.

Even that small movement made Marik's head spin. He lay back, feeling Ryou's fluttering heart against his chest, his hand finding Ryou's inner thighs slick and wet. Soiled with shame, thought Marik. Liquid lost innocence.

Ryou shivered, head clouding. He still couldn't think straight. He felt cold and exposed, even though he was pressed against Marik's warm body. He felt sick. Something was deeply wrong.

Marik wrapped his arms around the skinny, battered boy and sighed, smiling to himself. Under his arms and against his body he felt Ryou's erratic heartbeat ease, slow down, slow to a feeble tick, and all but stop. Ryou's eyelashes tickled his skin. He was still alive, still breathing, but existed in a form of limbo. The same sort of limbo that Marik lived in.

Marik grinned darkly, face twisted with triumph. He'd done it. Ryou was here for good. He'd done it.


End file.
